


Home For The Holidays

by SpitfireRose



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Child Prompto Argentum, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Comfort No Hurt, Family Feels, Gen, MT Prompto Argentum, holiday fic, papa cor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28626867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpitfireRose/pseuds/SpitfireRose
Summary: It's Prompto's first ever Christmas and Cor wants to get him the perfect gift.The problem is he doesn't know what that is.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum & Cor Leonis
Comments: 12
Kudos: 91
Collections: FFXV Book Club 2020 Holiday Exchange





	Home For The Holidays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [battle_goats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_goats/gifts).



> I am a simple creature. I see a prompt for Papa Cor and Prompto, I click.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, Battle_Goats, and happy holidays < 3

"Has Prompto told you what he wants for Christmas?" Lady Carna Amicitia asks while checking on gingerbread baking in the oven, the smell of spice warming the manor’s kitchen as an infant Iris babbles from her high chair. 

Cor groans into his coffee mug.

"I tried telling him about Father Christmas thinking that would open him up to the idea that it’s okay for him to _want_ something." He explains while taking a bitter sip over how well that had gone. It was like prying teeth to get the blond to let him know when he was hungry or thirsty as was, his idea of ‘want’ essentially basic necessities he’d previously been deprived of instead of normal kid stuff like toys or games. “Worsened his anxiety is what _that_ did."

Carna offers him a sympathetic look from over her shoulder to tell her what happened as she wipes a bit of drool off Iris’s chin. Cor bites back another groan and the urge to bury his face in his hands, instead owning up to the honest fuckup he told a kid recovering from heavy trauma that Father Christmas gives gifts to good boys and girls. 

Carna stands up straight with a gasp.

"Oh Cor, you didn't!" 

"I didn't realize it at the time, okay?” Cor groans again while pressing the pads of his fingers into his temple at the onset of yet another headache over how stupid he’d been. The last he truly celebrated the holiday was as a child back when Astrals still roamed Eos, but fuck he should’ve known better. “Prompto's made so much progress over the month and now it's like we're back at square one."

"You did tell him he's good and doesn't have to worry, right?" She questions and he nods helplessly. He’s made it a point to be perfectly clear with Prompto as such, but that was as easy as his foolhardy skirmish with Gilgamesh years ago. Whatever the kid wanted, he wanted it _bad._

"I'm hoping he'll tell Regis and he'll pass whatever it is he wants along to me." Cor sighs in defeat. "I just. Want him to be happy. It's his first Christmas, Carna. It has to be special."

Her smile is warm like sunshine.

"You really have gone soft."

"Please. I get that enough from your husband and His Majesty. They're both getting coal, by the way." She laughs while setting a kettle on the stovetop.

“Come now, they haven’t been all that bad. They helped you transform that old office of yours into a bedroom for Prompto, didn’t they?" Carna hums thoughtfully as she rummages the cupboard for four mugs and he reconsiders his stance. As insufferable as his two longest companions are, they _have_ been nothing but kind towards the boy and that just might spare them -- _this_ year, at least. "Speaking of, have you asked Prompto about if he wants to stay there?"

Cor sighs before shaking his head at the behemoth-sized question that’s been on the back of his mind since declaring it his responsibility to look after the child until finding someone more suited. Preferably someone with a family that would give him everything he deserved, everything that Cor couldn’t give.

"Prompto's still recovering. Still adjusting to life as a normal kid. I don't want to pressure him into deciding anything before he's ready. Six knows others have made enough choices for him." As to the details of that, he skirts the subject entirely though suspects Carna knows enough from Clarus by the forlorn expression she bears as she glances out the window. "I don't know if he's even happy here."

"He seems happy to me."

Outside in the first real snow of the season, four bundled up little boys play like they’ve known each other all their lives instead of a couple weeks. Prompto’s smiling as Gladio helps him lift up what Cor can only presume to be the head for the chocobo chick they’re making. Sneaking up behind them, a mischievous little Prince with a handful of snow stuffs it down his unsuspecting Shield’s back and narrowly misses getting grabbed before pulling at Prom’s arm. Running after Noctis as Gladio chases the both of them, it’s incredible how alive he looks compared to a month ago, cheeks rosy from both the cold and breathless laughter. It warms Cor’s heart to watch them stop to help pick Prompto up when he slips and falls, both making sure he’s all right as they walk together to the fort Ignis has built.

It’s hard to believe he’s the same half-conscious child Cor found strapped to a metal operating table and treated like a piece of meat for all of five seconds until the rage broiling inside him could no longer be contained. The same child Cor cradled in the train compartment’s blankets while murmuring softly they were safe as they cried knowing it to be the truth as they gently rocked along the tracks towards Lucis. The same child cared for by top hospital staff claiming it was due to the Marshal staying by the boy’s bedside that a full recovery was possible. The same child so painfully shy yet impossibly sweet despite everything that’d been done to him, just living life for the first time and loving every second of it.

Cor’s so fucking proud.

The feeling overwhelms his heart with a profound tenderness he once thought himself incapable of. He doesn’t know why he ever thought he wouldn’t get attached -- like he wasn’t a goner the second Prompto’s little hand grasped right over his heart as Cor lifted him up off that damn table with a grip so strong for one so frail and weak. No matter what he decides, Cor owes it to Prompto to do right by him, even if it means they’ll part ways when he’s ready. The Marshal knows he won’t ever be, but until that day comes he’s going to give the kid the best life he can.

* * *

It’s a long, long week until Father Christmas makes his annual visit to the Citadel. 

Cor swears they spend nearly all of it at the park.

They go sledding, ice skating, build snowmen -- anything to take the kid’s mind off being good and to just have _fun_. He even puts up watching after His Highness and retainers with Crownsguard nearby just so Prompto has someone to play with because as much as Cor doesn’t mind the exercise, he’s not exactly as young as he once was. “Immortal” as he may be, his ass can only take falling on ice and sharing a sled with a kid so many times -- times he prays aren’t photographed and sent to His Majesty or Lord Amicitia to further tarnish his reputation as a no-nonsense Marshal. Astrals know his recruits are already onto him from training sessions where he’d brought Prompto along -- Six forbid they learn he’s trying his hand at baking cookies, too. At the end of the day though, the kid is happier than Cor’s ever seen him and that makes it all worth it. 

Then Christmas Eve finally arrives with the man of the hour sitting on his throne.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Prompto asks, anxious energy manifesting in twisting the festive sweater Monica bought him with one hand, the other gripping Cor’s. It’s red with a lion on it because apparently he has a habit of calling the boy ‘little cub’ he hadn’t noticed until she pointed it out and now he can’t stop. 

Crouching down to the child’s eye level, Cor places a palm on his shoulder which the kid practically melts into. The swordsman has never been big on physical touch, but it does wonders in grounding him. No surprise considering he didn’t know what hugs were when he was well enough to receive them -- after consenting, of course.

“He will,” _Or I’ll kick His Majesty’s royal ass_. “But it’s alright if you’re not ready. We can always do something else instead, cub. Noct, Gladio, and Ignis are right over there if you’d rather make paper snowflakes with them.”

Prompto considers it a moment while looking at him and chewing on his bottom lip before shaking his head.

“N-No. I want to.”

Cor smiles.

“You must really want this, huh?” Prompto nods and he’s relieved to soon know just what ‘this’ is. Despite all his attempts to sleuth it out, there hasn’t been any signs of the blond showing interest in toys, games, or whatever kids were into these days -- which to be fair, neither of them were familiar with. When he was his age, all he’d wanted was a katana.

Gradually the line of children and their parents dwindle down and Cor watches Regis speak with the young girl on his lap about what she wants for Christmas.

“Come to throw in a request as well?” The King’s Shield asks from his post before the Royal Throne.

“Yeah, for you to wear that ridiculous outfit every day.” The Marshal deadpans and Clarus laughs, causing the bell at the end of his hat to jingle. “Prompto’s here to see His Ma--His Father Christmasness.”

“Is that so? Hello, little one.” Lord Amicitia gives a warm smile while kneeling down. The blond isn’t as intimidated by him as he once was and Cor’s glad. In spite of his stoic appearance as a frighteningly powerful warrior, he’s a gentle giant great with kids. “You look well. I trust Cor has been taking good care of you?”

“Mhm.” Prompto hums more than speaks and his heart softens.

From the throne Regis gives a big belly laugh and hearty call of ‘Merry Christmas’ as the girl leaves, making them the next to go. At those twinkling eyes turning his way with a welcoming wave, the small blond freezes. Whether or not he’s aware of it, he knows the true identity of the kind man donned in red and white, but that doesn’t make it any less scary in confiding what his little heart wants.

“You’re a good kid.” Cor reminds him. “Go when you’re ready, okay?”

Regis has the patience of a saint while Prompto gathers his courage before straightening up and taking a step forward. His Majesty greets him warmly as he slowly but surely makes his way to him. Much like Clarus, he’s also incredible with children and no doubt enjoys taking up the mantle of Father Christmas year after year. To the Marshal’s surprise or perhaps not, the little blond doesn’t take a seat on his lap but instead gets up on his tippy toes to whisper in his ear. Whatever he says takes a moment for Regis to process it before a warm smile graces his lips and Cor swears he looks at him before turning his attention back to the child and whispering in his ear in return.

The relief on Prompto’s face is palpable.

With a few words commending his bravery, he goes on to join his friends at their table while the swordsman goes back to speak with His Majesty.

“Ah Marshal, I heard you have been an exceptionally good lad this year.” It’s all Cor can do to resist rolling his eyes with a deep breath. “Might I inquire what you would like this year?”

“Nothing,” He replies instantly like he has each and every year, but something in his heart tells him it’s a lie this time. There is something he wants, but he doesn’t dare himself to speak it, much less think when it isn’t his choice to make. “I was hoping you could do me a favor, actually.”

“Oh ho ho?”

_Keep it together, Leonis._

“Prompto asked you for something, didn’t he?”

“He did.” Regis confirms rather fondly, a tenderness to his tone Cor really only hears him use around his son. Upon asking what, Father Christmas smiles and shakes his head. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t be in the spirit of Christmas to spoil the surprise, my friend.”

“Please, Regis.” Pleading is unbecoming of a man of his standing, but he does anyway to show how serious he is. “I just want to make him happy. Prompto, he’s important to me.”

Just admitting that much aloud is as far as he’s willing to go. Never in his life has he genuinely cared about anyone the way he does for the boy, of how caring for him has filled a void in his heart he hadn’t noticed was there. No, that’s not true. The longing has always been there in the back of his mind watching his comrades with their families. He told himself it wasn’t something he wanted, that he was fine on his own as reaching the pinnacle of his military career had come at the sacrifice of forming any other meaningful relationships aside from his closest companions. 

But then Gralea happened and there was no way in hell he was leaving Prompto behind.

Regis just looks at him, all tenderness and warmth.

“He already has it.”

* * *

“Looking pretty good, kid.” 

Cor ruffles Prom’s hair and the child beams at their apartment window now covered with an assortment of paper snowflakes. He’s half-tempted to leave them there after the holiday’s come and gone along with the decently sized tree he went out and bought the day the Citadel put theirs up. To say Prompto had been entranced by the Great Tree decorated out with lights and ornaments of every color, shape and size was an understatement as the whole morning typically spent on paperwork was instead used to peruse halls decked with festive flare. It had been adorable, really, the way the kid tugged on his sleeve in a quiet request for the Marshal to lift him up to get a better look, little hands hesitant to reach out as if a dream. While the one in their apartment is fake due to numerous reasons pertaining to various plants that’ve died under his care, Prompto clearly adores it all the same. Underneath there are a few gifts for the kid and one for him which he suspects to be coffee that Carna helped the child pick out as that’s the one other thing he wants in his life.

As to what Prompto wants, Cor still doesn’t know.

What does he want so bad but already has?

He tries to think of it while serving up a pot roast he’s had in the cooker all day long -- yet another recent purchase he uses religiously -- that they eat together at the table he actually uses now instead of the couch. It’s there where they wind up after Cor gets him ready for bed with a cup of hot chocolate and some animated kid’s movie on the Moogleflix account he now has. By the time the credits start to roll, he finds himself laying on his back with the boy cuddled into his chest with his chocobo plush tucked under a scrawny arm. Making to get up with the intention of going to bed, his attempts are quickly thwarted by little hands sleepily grasping at his torso.

“ _Don’t go._ ” Prompto begs and how can he say no to that, inevitable sore back be damned. 

“I won’t.” Cor promises, securing his arms around him with a hand on his back. “I’m staying right here.”

The kid falls asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

“Cor...? Cor?”

The Marshal wakes immediately with a grimace at the stiffness in his spine while forcing himself to sit up. The kid’s standing next to him without any of the usual signs of distress from a nightmare yet that doesn’t stop Cor from opening his arms in offer of a hug that’s accepted as always.

“What is it?” He asks just in case there is a problem needing addressed

“ _Christmas._ ” He breathes in response and Cor can’t help a chuckle.

“So it is.” At five in the morning, but he digresses over how genuinely excited the child is. “What do you want? Breakfast or presents?”

“Can I stay here?” The kid asks and he nods.

“Of course. Whatever you want.” 

It’s there they stay for some time, just holding onto one another as the early morning passes them by. Prompto seems rather clingier than normal and Cor chalks it up as simply enjoying the peace until their stomachs rumble for breakfast and he tries his hand at pancakes that turn out significantly less lumpy than previous attempts. As predicted the gift with his name scrawled on it does indeed have his favorite coffee brand and as he would have guessed the camera he bought for the kid is a hit. He’s not positive if it’s what Regis meant, but there’s no denying how much he’s enjoying snapping pictures of the tree once Cor shows him how it works. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but with how quick he’s caught on he doesn’t doubt photography to be in his future.

Future. Like he’ll get to see it.

* * *

“Welcome, Marshal Leonis. Young Prompto. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you as well, Jared.” Cor replies to the ever-pleasant butler, Prompto shyly waving from behind his leg with his new camera in his other hand. Their arrival is overheard by a certain Highness and his two retainers as next he knows they’re taking their friend into the living room to play with the gifts they’ve opened -- or for Ignis to read to them in his case, the child Advisor quite the bookworm for his age. 

Joining the adults in the kitchen, he exchanges pleasantries with Dustin, Monica, and Lord and Lady Amicitia all asking how he and Prompto enjoyed their morning before making his way over to His Majesty partaking in cookies cut in the shape of a fish.

“Happy Holidays, Cor. Or perhaps I should call you something else today?”

“Like what?”

“Whatever Prompto’s taken to calling you.”

“You mean my name?” Cor snorts. “You just did.”

“Did he not ask you?” Regis frowns and the kitchen chatter dies down.

“....Ask me what?” He says slowly while glancing around to all eyes on the swordsman. It’s unsettlingly like they’re all on a secret he’s trying to piece together. “Did I not get him what he asked you for? You told me he had it.”

“Yes, _you._ ”

Carna and Monica both look like they’re going to cry.

“I don’t understand.” He really doesn’t. “What did he want so badly he wouldn’t stop trying so hard to be good?”

“ _You_ , Cor _._ ” Clarus looks a little misty-eyed himself and now he really doesn’t get what’s going on. 

All Prompto had asked that morning was that one little question if he could st--

Oh.

_Oh._

“ _Fuck,_ ” He whispers through a tight throat, eyes stinging of their own accord. “Fuck, I gotta--”

Cor doesn’t finish the sentence, just _goes_. Prompto hears him coming, whether by his footsteps or the others said something or he did, he doesn’t know, only that he’s down on his knees. 

“You want to stay with me?” That’s what he says for sure because he _has_ to know for sure. “That’s what you wanted? To stay with me?”

The little blond nods and fuck him if tears don’t start streaming down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Prompto apologizes like he has anything to be sorry for, those wondrous violet eyes of his starting to shine as his bottom lip trembles. “I-I-I tr-tried to be good--”

Cor pulls him right into his arms and holds him tight. 

“Of course.” He chokes out though he’s already said it once but he’ll say it again, say it as many times as need be atop Mount Ravatogh if he has to. “Of course you can stay.”

Now Prompto starts to cry and Cor cradles him close, lips pressed to his temple as if to convey how much he’s loved and wanted and nothing will ever change that. Looking up briefly, he can see their friends and family without a single dry eye in the happy crowd. 

“Merry Christmas, my son.”


End file.
